I'm tired, bloated, and sweaty. The final load of wash--bed sheets--strangles itself, unbalancing the machine. I hear it, trek downstairs, and adjust things. Then the remaining dish, hidden from view while its companions were collected and stored away in the dishwasher, reveals itself. I spot it, get up, and return it to the kitchen. Finally, the last log in the fireplace desperately hangs on, its tenacity throwing off waves of heat and crackling moans that distract me from my current task. I hesitate, witness its tenacity, then walk over and stab it twice. The remains of that log, cut from a dying ash tree, seasoned for at least two years, snaps once at me and belches a puff of smoke, before collapsing into a pile of embers.
I'm also sitting on my couch in my pajamas. During the past few hours, I decided to accomplish everything prior to drafting tonight's blog post. That included the laundry, the dishes, and the fireplace. Also, preparing myself for bed. Unfortunately, running about and the log's death have made the room stuffy. Sweating in your pjs is not a good thing. No one wants to lay down in a freshly made bed sticky from perspiration.
So, I sit as still as possible. Only my hands move, typing up these words. But now the thirty-two ounces of water I guzzled an hour ago requires my immediate attention. I don't want to get up. I want to finish my blogging.
Annoyed and uncomfortable, I now review what I have written, editing along the way. It's needs work.
Then I hear the dryer go off, remember I haven't brushed my teeth, and decide my bladder will not wait any longer.
I am calling this session over.
This blog post is complete.
Goodnight!
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